sounding even louder than it should have in the otherwise empty bar. When nobody stepped forward to offer him one, he motioned to Brendon. “Get me the one behind the bar. It’s over near the shotgun.”
“You’ve got a shotgun, and you didn’t mention it?” Jack asked. “You know we could probably use that, right?”
“Nobody uses my shotgun but me,” Smitty said sternly. He glanced at Brendon. “Bring the shotgun too while you’re at it. Kid’s got a point. We might need it.”
Brendon started for the bar as Smitty squinted into the darkness again. A hand slammed against the glass, and the man staggered back from the window, stumbling over a stool and almost falling. Jack rushed forward to catch him, helping him stay on his feet. The beating outside the doors became more insistent, more frantic, and it was accompanied by the sound of shouting. No, not shouting, Gray realized. It was growling . It was animalistic snarling and groaning and moaning. The sounds sent chills up his spine, and the thought of zombies suddenly no longer seemed quite so absurd. He bit back the nausea welling in his throat, even as the front doors were shoved inward. The tables and chairs blocking the door scraped against the floorboards as they gave a few inches under the onslaught from the other side of the door. Gray took a few steps back, closer to the table where April’s body lay. He turned on his heel, intending to search out something to use as a weapon, and that was when his eyes landed on the pool table.
April’s body was gone.
“April?” Gray called out, scanning the darkness in the corners of the bar. He looked back over his shoulder to Jack, who was giving him a quizzical look. “April’s gone!”
“Gone? What the fuck do you mean, April’s gone?” Jack demanded, taking a couple of steps toward him.
“Gone! Not here! Away!” Gray snapped. “Should I get you a fucking dictionary? Or would you prefer a thesaurus?”
“She can’t be gone! She’s dead!”
“Well then, her body is gone! Who moved it?”
“Nobody moved it,” Jack said. His tone was wary, and he edged toward Gray, trying to get a look around him at the newly empty table. He was distracted by the sound of the chairs and tables scraping on the floor again, though, and he hurried to join Brendon and Smitty in their efforts to push the furniture back against the doors securely.
Gray took a deep breath and turned back around. He knelt to peer under the table, as if April’s body had somehow rolled off the table or magically sunk through it to the floor below. He shook his head and straightened, rising from the floor to find himself face to face with April Linder. He gasped, even as she lunged at him, her hands out, grasping for him as she let out a snarl similar to the ones made by the people outside. Gray staggered backward with a shout of alarm, trying to dodge her grasping hands, even as the door behind him gave way and the animalistic people from outside flooded in.
Chapter 8
The sound of the gunshot seemed to hang in the air around Theo as he sat heavily against the edge of the jump seat. He stared at Jonathan’s motionless body lying just beyond on the edge of the doorway, horror washing over his mind as he gripped the leather seat with both hands. His breath was coming out hard and fast, and he felt a twinge of dizziness tickle at his brain. He shuddered and closed his eyes for the barest of moments, trying to slow his breathing before he hyperventilated. He had a sudden appreciation for Gray and what he went through when he had asthma attacks.
Now wasn’t the time to get panicky, Theo reminded himself. He had work to do. He had to get out of the ambulance. He had to get moving. He had to find his brother.
Theo wasn’t exactly sure where to start, though. He had no idea if the shot that had clearly killed Jonathan had been a stray one that had just chanced to hit the man or if it had been an intentional kill shot. If it had
“You’ve got a shotgun, and you didn’t mention it?” Jack asked. “You know we could probably use that, right?”
“Nobody uses my shotgun but me,” Smitty said sternly. He glanced at Brendon. “Bring the shotgun too while you’re at it. Kid’s got a point. We might need it.”
Brendon started for the bar as Smitty squinted into the darkness again. A hand slammed against the glass, and the man staggered back from the window, stumbling over a stool and almost falling. Jack rushed forward to catch him, helping him stay on his feet. The beating outside the doors became more insistent, more frantic, and it was accompanied by the sound of shouting. No, not shouting, Gray realized. It was growling . It was animalistic snarling and groaning and moaning. The sounds sent chills up his spine, and the thought of zombies suddenly no longer seemed quite so absurd. He bit back the nausea welling in his throat, even as the front doors were shoved inward. The tables and chairs blocking the door scraped against the floorboards as they gave a few inches under the onslaught from the other side of the door. Gray took a few steps back, closer to the table where April’s body lay. He turned on his heel, intending to search out something to use as a weapon, and that was when his eyes landed on the pool table.
April’s body was gone.
“April?” Gray called out, scanning the darkness in the corners of the bar. He looked back over his shoulder to Jack, who was giving him a quizzical look. “April’s gone!”
“Gone? What the fuck do you mean, April’s gone?” Jack demanded, taking a couple of steps toward him.
“Gone! Not here! Away!” Gray snapped. “Should I get you a fucking dictionary? Or would you prefer a thesaurus?”
“She can’t be gone! She’s dead!”
“Well then, her body is gone! Who moved it?”
“Nobody moved it,” Jack said. His tone was wary, and he edged toward Gray, trying to get a look around him at the newly empty table. He was distracted by the sound of the chairs and tables scraping on the floor again, though, and he hurried to join Brendon and Smitty in their efforts to push the furniture back against the doors securely.
Gray took a deep breath and turned back around. He knelt to peer under the table, as if April’s body had somehow rolled off the table or magically sunk through it to the floor below. He shook his head and straightened, rising from the floor to find himself face to face with April Linder. He gasped, even as she lunged at him, her hands out, grasping for him as she let out a snarl similar to the ones made by the people outside. Gray staggered backward with a shout of alarm, trying to dodge her grasping hands, even as the door behind him gave way and the animalistic people from outside flooded in.
Chapter 8
The sound of the gunshot seemed to hang in the air around Theo as he sat heavily against the edge of the jump seat. He stared at Jonathan’s motionless body lying just beyond on the edge of the doorway, horror washing over his mind as he gripped the leather seat with both hands. His breath was coming out hard and fast, and he felt a twinge of dizziness tickle at his brain. He shuddered and closed his eyes for the barest of moments, trying to slow his breathing before he hyperventilated. He had a sudden appreciation for Gray and what he went through when he had asthma attacks.
Now wasn’t the time to get panicky, Theo reminded himself. He had work to do. He had to get out of the ambulance. He had to get moving. He had to find his brother.
Theo wasn’t exactly sure where to start, though. He had no idea if the shot that had clearly killed Jonathan had been a stray one that had just chanced to hit the man or if it had been an intentional kill shot. If it had
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